Sugar and Spice
by Magali1
Summary: *Updated 5/11/2014 with (final) bonus chapter* Originally a one shot, Buddy Garrity receives happy news from Lyla, offers some advice, and in the follow-up, finds a perfect mascot for the Panthers. Pure unadulterated fluff. Tim, Lyla, and Buddy happy fic. Buddy POV.
1. Sugar and Spice

**A/N:**This is a happy, fluffy fic from Buddy POV, which no one really ever sees. He started off as one of my most hated characters and now he ranks as one of my favorite FNL characters, just through his growth alone. I legit cried at the scene of him at Tim's parole hearing. So here is a happy Buddy fic.

* * *

I don't know why we have to do this silly thing, Buddy thought, scowling as Lyla hung up his coat on a rack beside the door. He passed her a bottle of sparkling cider that she'd requested for some odd reason. "Why am I here? There's football on right now."

"You're here because I want to have Sunday brunch with my father," Lyla said, taking the bottle and kissed his cheek at the same time. She patted his shoulder, leading him through the open expanse of the ranch house, gesturing to the couch. "And there's football already on, it's this house, there is never not football on." She rolled her eyes. "Have a seat, I'm finishing up some things in the kitchen."

He scowled; the only other person at this stupid brunch was Riggins and he didn't really want to talk with Riggins. Not after this past Friday. "Your brother can't coach," he snapped. Fine, I'll talk to him. Better that then silence. He hated silence.

"Ah," Tim said. He held up his finger and then pointed, silently, to a handmade sign that was sitting on the coffee table. What in the world? Buddy picked it up, glowering. He shook it, shouting across to the kitchen, where Lyla was putting something into the oven. "Lyla Garrity! I will not be censored!" He tossed the 'No Football Talk. Or Else' sign on the coffee table, looking at the huge flatscreen hanging on the wall. Nice, he thought, scowling slightly. "Where'd you get the money for this?"

"Your daughter," Tim answered. He glanced sideways from his perch in his chair. He was smiling. "I get ten percent of every paycheck."

"What? Why?"

"Long story. Smash is playing good."

Nice change of subject Tim Riggins, I admire you for that, he thought, watching the TV for a few minutes. Yes, Smash was playing well. Very well. I wish the Cowboys would pick him up, he thought, sighing. For now he'd have to support a damn Ohio team. Smash should really think of leaving that state. I'll have to have a talk with him when he comes back for a visit. He straightened up, looking at Lyla, who was doing something in the kitchen. There was a loud bang as she slammed something into something else. He perked up some more, since her husband was oblivious to helping her. "You need help baby?"

"I got it."

He shifted on the couch, looking at Riggins again. "You don't want to see if she needs anything?" he demanded. How rude. Tim ignored him, still watching the TV. He shook his head, grumbling under his breath. How that whole thing started again, he had no idea. Just that he swore he saw his daughter driving around in that old black truck and sure enough, she was calling and saying she was in town. Something to do with whatever happened between them after she came back for a few weeks post-Vanderbilt. He moved his gaze to a picture on the mantle. There were a few of them.

Not wanting to really help out in the kitchen, but not wanting to make small talk with Riggins, he stood up and walked over to the mantle, surveying the pictures. He smiled a little at the pretty one of Lyla and him, father and daughter on her wedding day. Then there was one that he would never admit, but was kind of his favorite, with Lyla sitting in the bed of the truck, one hand on her cheek and the other resting on the truck's side, her wedding dress floating around her but showing off her cowboy boots. Tim was leaning against the truck with his arms crossed, both of them smiling wide.

They worked, he thought, glancing over his shoulder. Tim had gotten up and was now in the kitchen with her. What were they doing, he wondered, frowning slightly. He picked up another picture, of the two of them with Jason Street, on a beach somewhere. "When did you see Jason last?" he asked.

Lyla put a large cinnamon bun down on the table, walking around to pour orange juice into glasses. "Um…a few weeks ago? He was visiting his parents. They're thinking of moving to New York, to be closer to the grandchildren."

Grandchildren. Goodness, he thought, shaking his head slightly. Jason had made grandparents out of Joanne and Mitchell much sooner than they had probably ever expected, even during the days when Jason and Lyla were going to marry the second they were legal. He'd feared that same thing, with Lyla coming to him crying saying she was pregnant with a Riggins baby and she wasn't even out of high school. He sighed, putting the picture back up. "How are Jason's kids?"

"Good. Noah is in middle school now and Lizzie is preschool," Lyla said. She talked more than Tim did, especially when he was in the house, but this seemed unusual, he thought with another frown. There was a weird vibe going on, but oh well. She gestured to the table. "Brunch is ready."

Tim pulled his chair out, plopping down and reaching for his glass of orange juice. "What's the difference between brunch and breakfast and lunch anyway? Everything here is what we eat at breakfast."

"You don't even eat breakfast, so shush. I made a quiche," Lyla said, setting a yellow pie thing in front of both of them. He wrinkled his nose at it, glancing at Tim, who was doing the same thing. They both looked up at her, as though demanding who she thought was planning on eating it. She rolled her eyes. "Fine, I'll eat it. Tim, here's the lox for your bagel."

Tim scowled at the smoked salmon. "I don't think so," he said, pushing it away with his finger like it was radioactive. "It's got green stuff on it."

"That's dill!"

"Whatever, it's green." He leaned a little on the table, his voice a little too even-keeled for Buddy's taste. Something was going on. "Mr. Garrity do you want to try the cinnamon bun? Lyla just took it out of the oven." He smiled a little, ducking his head when Lyla shot him a dark look.

Is it poisoned, he wondered, his eyes narrowed to slits, gazing between the both of them. "What are you guys doing?" he asked, gesturing with his finger. "What's going on here? I don't like being kept in the dark."

Lyla pushed the cinnamon bun towards him. "It's an extra large cinnamon bun, I made it. Take a piece, I want to see if it's any good and Tim doesn't like my cooking."

"I don't hate all your cooking, just when you try to get me to eat green stuff," Tim said. He pushed aside the green smoothie she'd passed him, shaking his head. "Not that either." He picked up the peanut butter, slathering it on his bagel. "Now this I'll eat."

It was just a cinnamon bun. To be nice, he shrugged. "Okay fine, saddle me up, it looks good." Lyla passed him the knife. Okay then, guess I'll cut it. So, he cut a piece, pulling it out slowly, frowning as he stared at it. Weird, he thought; it was dyed colors on the inside. He looked over at Lyla, who was nibbling on her lower lip. She was trying very hard not to smile. Even Tim looked…happy. That was a red flag. He set his knife and fork down, glaring at her. "What's wrong with it? What'd you put in it?"

"Food coloring."

"Why?" He set the piece on his plate, looking at it again and then at the bun. It alternated colors. Pink and blue. Pink and blue…pink and blue…a bun. He looked up, his eyes widening as it pieced itself together in front of him. A bun in the oven. Oh my God. Oh my God. "Ah!" he shouted, pushing the chair back so hard it fell over. Oh my God. Pink and blue. He pointed to it again, stuttering. "It's…it's…" He laughed, reaching for her and then dropped his arms again. Was it true, he wondered, seeing Lyla's wide and beaming face. "So is it…is it a b…b…" I can't even say the word I'm so stunned, he thought, scrubbing at his face. He laughed again, feeling ready to cry. "Is that what this is about?"

"Yeah," Lyla laughed, standing up and reaching for him. She jumped up, hugging him tight. He squeezed her as hard as he could, not wanting to release her. "Oh Daddy, yeah. I wanted to find a neat way of telling you."

You could have just said so, he thought, looking down at the pink and blue pastry. He sniffed a few times, feeling silly for getting so emotional. "Oh a baby. A little grandbaby…does your mother know?" he demanded. Am I the first? The first to know?

Lyla shook her head, still smiling, her voice quiet. "I wanted you to know first. This is your first grandchild and I'm your first daughter so…well I just wanted you to know first. Are you happy about it Daddy?"

"What do you think baby?" he asked, kissing her cheek and hugging her again. He patted her back. "Oh I love you so much. You're going to have a baby." A little baby. A little Garrity….oh shit. He sighed hard, the realization dawning as the euphoria of realizing his first grandchild was on the way, far too long after his daughter had gotten married in his opinion. He let go of her. "A Riggins baby," he sighed, resigning himself to his fate.

"Whoo!" Tim exclaimed, popping the top on the sparkling cider. He grinned; stupid, Buddy thought, practically growling. He wiggled his eyebrows. "Oh yeah Mr. Garrity, a Riggins baby." He took a long pull from the bottle before pouring them glasses. "Let's celebrate!"

Oh man, he sighed, looking back at her. "You can still change your mind baby," he said, rubbing her back.

Lyla shook her head, still beaming. "Nope. I'm stuck with him and I like it and so will you." She arched an eyebrow. "Daddy, don't worry. It's all going to be fine." She took one of the glasses Tim passed her. "Thank you babe."

"You're welcome," Tim said, looking over at him. He smiled a little; nervous, Buddy judged. With every right to be nervous. Just because they'd been married as long as they had been and he'd actually supported the union, to a point of course, he was still a little nervous. Good. "So Mr. Garrity. What do you think?"

Think? I think that I'm just happy my daughter is giving me grandchildren. He clapped Tim on the back. "Oh Riggins, it could be worse. Could be that granola eating freak she was with her first year of college."

"Daddy!"

At least it was a good man, he thought, but he didn't say it. He looked over at her. "How far along are you sweetie?"

"I'm due in June. I'm thirteen weeks. I have a picture, here…" she removed a small black and white photograph from her purse, showing it to him and pointing, her voice soft and in awe. "There's the head and there's some arms and feet."

"Is it a boy or a girl?" he asked. I hope it's a boy. A sturdy little grandson he could teach to throw a spiral. His daddy will teach him how to block. It'll be a good thing. He'd make the Panthers, varsity of course, and they could go from there. Maybe by then Coach Taylor will be back, if he had his way and played all the angles he was playing, and then we'll get another State champion in the family.

Lyla shook her head, taking the picture away and walking it to the fridge, setting it in the center. "Don't know. We won't know until the doctor is saying there it is or…well, there is isn't." She turend around, smiling wide. "We want to be surprised."

"You mean you want to be surprised," Tim corrected, pouring beer into his empty champagne glass. My son-in-law ladies and gentlemen, Buddy thought, shaking his head in disbelief. He held up the champagne glass of beer, scowling at her. "I want to know. I want to paint the room something other than puke yellow."

"It is not puke yellow!"

"It is so puke yellow, Garrity I had this conversation with Billy with all of his kids, if I puked on the wall you couldn't tell the difference. All times!"

Buddy rolled his eyes. "Tim Riggins stop your nonsense, baby, why don't you want to find out?"

"Because that's not how it's done. I want to be surprised. This is nature and God's biggest gift and I want to live it the way it was intended," Lyla said, primly walking towards the table and sitting back down. "Now sit down all of you. Tim, don't you dare bring that glass of beer over here I swear…"

Tim rolled his eyes, dumping the glass in the sink. "It's just another glass."

"Those are champagne glasses from our wedding, they're for celebration. Not beer."

They bickered for a few more minutes before getting mushy. I hate when they get mushy, Buddy thought, scowling at them both. He leaned back in his chair, wiggling his finger between them. "Have you guys thought of what the baby will call me?"

Lyla narrowed her eyes. "Daddy I just told you I was having a baby like five minutes ago."

"What do you want to be called Mr. Garrity?" Tim asked, glancing at Lyla. "Because I'm thinking that you're going to be the only grandpa this kid will have." He paused, his voice quiet, dead serious. "So make it all count, you know?"

Will do Tim Riggins, he thought, nodding in understanding. He didn't know where Tim's father was, nor did he care, so long as it wasn't Dillon, Texas. So long as he wasn't anywhere near Tim. He picked up his glass of orange juice, taking a few sips before setting it down. "We'll let the baby decide. Now that that's settled." He looked up again, dead serious. "I'll have to put him down for the class of…well when would he be in ninth grade?"

Tim screwed up his face, thinking about it. "I don't know," he said, shaking his head and his eyes widening slightly. "I can't even think to next week."

That's always been your problem, Buddy wanted to say, but kept his mouth shut. He smiled a little when Lyla saluted him with her glass for letting that comment go. Well, I'm sort of learning he thought, smiling at her, even when she wasn't looking at him. My baby, he thought, sighing. He looked around the house. He made so many mistakes with her, but…but here she was. Successful, married, in love, all that stuff. Lived in a nice house her husband built with his two hands. A provider. Someone who would put her up on a pedestal and never let her fall.

I may not have made the best decisions, but somehow she came out okay in the end, Buddy thought. He'd been making them up to her as best as he could, but he didn't think Lyla wanted him to do anything like that. Right now she was happy, that's all he could ever hope for. He looked up again, smiling as Tim swept her around in a circle, with her laughing and telling him to stop, to go back to the table and finish his breakfast. He shook his head again, sighing once more. It had been a lot of that these past few years.

Lyla came back over to him. "Finish your brunch," she said, smiling and rising to kiss his cheek. "I love you Daddy." Her eyes sparkled. "Thank you." For what baby, he wanted to ask, but he didn't. He just smiled and wrapped her back up again, squeezing tight again. I love you too, he thought, but said nothing. He simply kissed her temple; sometimes there didn't need to be anything said. This was one of those times.

Six months later, he was leaning over the crib in the baby's room; the walls indeed looked puke yellow to him, and peered at his little granddaughter. She had on a hat that had a knitted crown on top of it and was wearing a pale pink little sleeper with lace on the feet and around the wrists. Her tiny mittens had footballs embroidered into the palms, a gift courtesy of the football team. Along with her '33' jersey and Dillon Panthers sleeper, which her mother had vowed, she'd never wear. "So what are you going to name her?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper so as not to disturb the sleeping princess.

Tim leaned over and dragged his knuckle over her soft pink cheek. "Lyla's keen on Madeline. I like Dylan. So we compromised."

"How'd you do that? Please don't tell me her name is Madedylan or something like that," he chastised. They'd been in the hospital all of two days before coming back home. Any name that they'd picked out, they hadn't shared yet with the family. Hopefully they'd decided. "Well?"

"Her name is Madeline Dylan, what'd you think it was?" He smiled down at his daughter. Loopy and stupid; not that there was much of a difference, Buddy thought, but he could tell. There was softness to the edge. It was still there, but there was definitely softness. "She's Mad."

Oh man, I knew there'd be a nickname. Madeline was a pretty name. Very much a name that Lyla would choose. He frowned slightly. "Dylan? Where'd that come from?"

"The city of course, I just don't like the spelling for a girl. Found it in a magazine, it's a real name," he said defensively. He straightened up, his knuckles white on the edge of the crib. His voice softened again. "Madeline Dylan Garrity Riggins."

Nice that you tossed the other name in there. He wrinkled his nose. Long name for a tiny girl. "Not all her last name though? You're not doing that hippie dippie thing and putting the hyphen in it, are you?"

"Naw, she's a Riggins through and through. Yes you are, you're a tiny little Riggins, but you're gonna' get big and we'll make you into a football player too, no cheerleading for you, no, no, no," Tim cooed, his voice going a little high. Buddy's eyes widened. Baby talk. Oh my, I have seen everything, he thought, blinking a few times. Then, to his surprise, the former fullback leaned in and lowered the side of the crib, kissing her cheek. "My girl."

Ah, he thought, drawing back and nodding in understanding. It had happened. He reached for Tim's upper arm, lightly tugging him from Madeline; I know it's hard, but you have to step away a second. "Come with me son," he ordered. He heard Tim's sharp intake of breath. Yup, you got a 'son.' Probably hadn't heard that in…well since the day we had a little chat before you whisked my daughter down the aisle. They left the room, with Tim making sure to take the monitor with him. They went down the hall and out onto the wraparound porch.

"Are you going to kill me Mr. Garrity?"

"Not today Tim." He turned around, smiling quickly; this was hard. "And you can start calling me Buddy."

Tim narrowed his eyes, his voice soft. "Yes…Mr. Garrity."

Well one day you'll call me Buddy. One day. Took me about ten years just to ask you to call me Buddy. He narrowed his eyes on Tim and placed his hand on his hip, poking Riggins in the chest with his freehand. "You screw this up and I'll find you. This is a your little girl. There's something different about little girls. I'll tell you. Coach Taylor will tell you. Matt Saracen and Jason Street will tell you, since I think they have them. They aren't boys, Tim. They're different and that's not sexist."

Tim shot him a look that seemed to indicate it was. "I know," he mumbled, looking away.

No, you really don't. "You're gonna' freak out when she does anything," he said, thinking to when Lyla was a little girl. She had braids and missing teeth and wore dresses and jelly sandals. She had tea parties and talked to her stuffed animals. He sniffed a little. His voice seemed to grow thick. "They're different Riggins. They're harder, they're…they're tinier and they seem like they'll break. They're gonna' do things just to put you in the hospital, I swear they do it on purpose. You aren't gonna' be able to breathe when she…when she starts walking or…or going to school or…or when she falls off a bike." He looked away, at the patch of flowers beneath the porch. He sniffed slightly. Lyla liked flowers, always had. "Even if you get one who just…even if she likes climbing on things and getting dirty and all that…you're not going to let her. You'll want her clean and away from the bad things in the world and when she gets that first taste…"

He had a sudden flashback, to the girls throwing things and calling his daughter names. Seeing her crying and knowing she was in pain but being unable to stop it. Then there was the sickening realization that she'd grown up; she was gone from him. He didn't know she was doing…doing that with Jason Street let alone Tim Riggins. The bad boy. The guy that used and was…was the farthest thing he wanted for his baby girl. He swallowed hard, a lump in his throat. He took a deep breath, shakily letting it out. "When she gets that first taste of the world. The meanness of it…" He looked sideways at Tim, who was listening with rapt attention. He scowled darkly. "The second she meets one of you…"

"I'll lock her in a tower," Tim said. He smiled, a ghostly look. His voice softened again. "I know. I know Mr. Garrity."

Maybe you do Tim, but you don't know it all completely. Not until she starts pulling away from you. Until you can't protect her. "Don't get me wrong," he said, thinking to what Lyla would wonder about this conversation they were having. He smiled. "She's going to be tougher than you. Little girls might seem delicate, but they're strong. You can't control them. All you can do is be there and love them and…and know that it's how you treat them is how they're gonna' act when they're grown up."

Tim nodded again, looking down at his hands. He pushed away from the porch and leaned over, patting his shoulder, smiling softly. "Thanks Buddy."

Yeah, he thought, feeling Tim walk away from him and the door close to the house. He scanned the back of the house, the yard and the fence that separated the living portion of it from the wild of the rest of the Tim's land. He smiled slightly at the swing that was already hanging in a tree. He turned slightly at the sound of a door opening. "Lyla," he exclaimed, rushing to help her. "You should be in bed."

"I'm fine, the doctor said walking is good for me."

"The doctor said no such thing, I was there."

"Oh, yeah, you were." Lyla waved her hand, blowing him off. She opened up the fridge, taking out a bottle of juice. She shook it a bit, smiling sideways in his direction. Her eyes were sparkling; there was a very obvious 'glow', if you could call it that, surrounding her at the moment. "You have the talk with Tim? Is he going to be abandoning me with a child out of fear for what you might do to him, if he actually abandons me with a child?"

He sniffed. "I don't know why you would think that." What he talked about with Tim was just between them. She wouldn't understand. He smiled softly at her, reaching for her again and kissed the top of her head. "I love you baby. My favorite."

She chuckled into his chest. "Don't tell Tabby."

"She knows," he sighed, a bit sad at that. Lyla had always been his, according to his ex-wife. There was nothing that she could have done to change that. Maybe because Lyla can be like me sometimes, he thought, as she opened up her bottle of juice, taking a few sips before putting it down. Unlike him, she hadn't let those parts of her take over her life. She'd succeeded, far beyond his expectations with her, of which he had little. He always knew she'd blow them out of the water.

She reached over to a stack of cards, flicking through some of them. "Look at all these people congratulating us. I don't even think I know this many people, they're all for Tim." She chuckled, lifting her eyebrows. "I didn't even know Tim knew this many people who would send cards." She opened up one, rolling her eyes, flicking it towards him. "Mom."

Enough said, he thought, taking the card. He scowled at the loopy handwriting of his exwife, congratulating her on Madeline. "Did she even call you?" he asked, dropping the card down on the counter.

"Yeah, she left a message at the hospital. I talked to her yesterday for a few minutes, she isn't going to come see the baby, we have to fly to see her."

"You have a newborn!"

"I know Daddy, I'm not getting into it with you." Lyla turned back around, leaning against the counter. She smirked. "What'd you tell Tim?"

Nothing, he thought, smiling back at her. "Things you, the mother, will never know anything about," he said, tapping her nose. He kissed her forehead, like she was five-years old again and coming to show him her new cartwheel and wearing her little Panthers cheerleading outfit. He wrapped her back into his arms again, whispering, lest he get overly emotional again. "My baby girl. I love you. I'm so proud of you."

"I know," she said, her voice thick. She coughed, looking up and smiling, her eyes shining with tears. She patted his shoulder and dropped her hand to his elbow, her wedding ring shining a little in the sunlight coming in through the open windows. She wiped at her eyes quickly. "Hopefully I'm not entirely a disappointment," she tried to joke, but he wasn't in a joking mood.

He shook his head again, whispering. "You could never be a disappointment to me." Even if I would have preferred you not return to Dillon. Or marry Riggins. Or have a baby with him. No matter what Lyla had done, when it might not have seemed like a good decision, she always turned it around. He reached around, flipping her hair over her shoulder and stroking it slightly, like she was a little kid again. "You are going to be an amazing mother Lyla. You and Riggins…"

"Daddy," she murmured, shaking her head slightly. "You don't have…"

"No, I…I want to," he thought, patting her shoulders lightly. He reached down and squeezed her hands tight, lifting them up and kissing her knuckles. He looked back into her eyes again. "This isn't the situation I had ever planned for you Lyla, but…but my situation involved you in a tower for the rest of your life." She smiled at that. He took a deep breath. "You are…you are successful and you…you are beloved by your husband. That's all a dad can ask for from that." He smiled again. "And you now have a beautiful little girl and…and she is going to love you so much because you love her so much. I know it and…and I know that I was never the greatest dad so…but…" he trailed off again before rolling his eyes, mumbling. "But Riggins is going to be a good one. Better than me."

Lyla was already shaking her head. "Daddy you just…" she trailed off, reaching to hug him again, her chin resting on his shoulder. "I'm not going to get into the past. It's not worth the upsetting feelings it brings both of us. We're good now and…and I love you so much." She smiled wide, pulling away again. "You're going to be a great Grandpa. Come over whenever."

His eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yeah, really?" Tim asked, coming into the kitchen holding Madeline, who was awake, her big eyes blinking a little at her new surroundings. He smiled at Lyla, his lips tight over his teeth, which were clenched. "Whenever?"

"Well you will call first, of course."

Of course, he thought with an eyeroll. Not happening. He leaned down to Tim's arms, carefully taking Madeline from him. "Hello pretty girl," he cooed, tickling her chin. He turned around, looking over at Lyla, who was giving him a pointed look. Okay, fine. "Alright, no baby talk."

"That article you read is crap, it doesn't retard their brain development," Tim said, heating up a bottle. He shook it out onto his wrist and promptly frowned. "Is this warm enough?" he asked, turning his wrist up to Lyla.

"Put your arm down, give me that." Lyla shook the bottle onto her wrist. "It's fine."

Buddy took the bottle from her, watching as Madeline immediately gravitated towards it, her tiny hands moving a little in their mittens as she ate, looking around at them all. "She thinks we're crazy," Tim said, making a face at her. Madeline just blinked. "I knew it."

"Stop it, you'll scare her," Lyla said, cooing down to Madeline. "Aren't you just so pretty? Yes you are. Pretty, pretty princess."

"What about the baby talk there Garrity? This another one of those do as I say things?"

"Shut up."

They're probably going to be married for about fifty some years now, Buddy thought, rolling his eyes and looking down at Madeline. He walked away from the bickering new parents, who were now starting to go at each other about how Tim actually had to change a dirty diaper, whether he wanted to or not. Just ignore them, he thought, looking down at Madeline. "When you get tired of them sweetpea, you can come stay with me, I'll get a room all set for you," he drawled. He glanced at her bottle; damn, she was almost done with it. "You're a hungry little gal, huh?"

"Don't shame her eating, she'll have body insecurity issues when she's a teenager," Tim said, coming over to take the empty bottle.

"What do you know of that Tim Riggins?"

"Oprah."

"Oprah's been off the air for years."

"I remember things." Tim lifted Madeline up from his arms and draped her over his shoulder. "Lyla where's the rag?" He turned around, rummaging in the various bags and boxes that were scattered throughout the living room. He straightened up again. "Garrity!"

Madeline began to cry, her face screwing up. Tim winced, patting her back, not realizing he didn't have the rag over his shoulder. It took a second, but Buddy cringed, already seeing as Madeline just spitup half her bottle onto Tim's shirt. Tim glanced over and sighed. "Damn." He called out again, over the sound of Madeline's hiccupping crying. "Garrity!"

Buddy let Tim wander around looking for a spit-up rag and try to get Madeline to stop crying. He peeked into the bedroom at the end of the hall. Lyla was fast asleep in the tousled bed, her hair strewn over her face and one arm and leg off the side of the bed. It looked like she'd been in the middle of folding laundry. Oh baby, he thought with a chuckle. Your multitasking is not going to work these first few weeks. Not until they got on a schedule. He picked up a blanket and draped it over her, smoothing her hair back from her face. He pushed her leg back up onto the bed and took off her shoes and then placed her hand over her stomach. "Sleep sweet baby girl," he whispered, kissing her cheek.

"Hmm," Lyla mumbled, turning onto her side. She sighed, swallowing a little and licked her lips. "Love you Daddy."

"Love you too baby." He backed out of the bedroom and closed the door. The crying had quieted. He went back into the living room and stopped. Tim was now on the couch, his eyes closed and Madeline on his stomach. Well that was fast, he thought, carefully prying Madeline out of his hands. She looked up, her face still splochy. "Come on sweetpea." He placed her in the basket next to Tim, lightly draping a blanket over her feet. He adjusted her cap and watched as she closed her eyes, her fists folding over her chest, asleep within a few minutes.

Now that everyone was asleep, Buddy looked around the house. It could use a quick clean. He wasn't much for that. He sighed, picking up a blanket and folded it, putting it at Tim's feet. He then picked up a box and set that aside. He took out some sleepers from a Target bag and put them in Madeline's room. And he put dishes in the dishwasher and started it. He folded the laundry that Lyla had barely gotten through.

A few hours later, Madeline was fussing again for another bottle and Tim was moving on the couch, blinking up at the ceiling while Lyla wandered out of the bedroom, scratching her head. "Who cleaned my house?" she mumbled, standing in the center of the hallway, looking at everything. She squinted. "Daddy…"

"See you later baby," Buddy said, kissing her cheek and giving her a quick squeeze. "I love you." He let go and walked out of the house, scowling at Tim. He jabbed him in the chest. "And you…"

Tim smiled fast. "Love you too Mr. Garrity."

He merely scowled, leaving the house and climbed up into his Suburban. He backed out of the drive and paused, tying the pink and white balloons he'd forgotten were in his car to the mailbox. A car drove by and honked its horn. "Congratulations!" the driver shouted, waving a hand out the window.

He waved back. Yes, he thought with a happy smile, looking up at the house. They'd be fine, he thought, climbing back into the Suburban. He folded his hands around the steering wheel, feeling a little lost. His kids were all gone. Now they had kids of their own. He looked back up, unsure where he was supposed to go. Or what he was supposed to do. Lyla, his baby, was raising her baby now. He was so happy for her. Then there was Riggins…Riggins with a daughter. Good Lord how you work in such mysterious but at times obvious ways. Now he was going to go through the same hell that I went through, when his daughter starts going out with boys, just like her.

There was always football work to be done, he thought, smiling to himself, driving off to the stadium.

THE END


	2. And Everything Nice

**A/N: **The first part of this was just for fun and just a one-shot, until I got an idea for a cute little chapter afterward. Just for fun :) Complete and total fluff.

* * *

"Now sweet pea, you throw it like this…" Buddy carefully formed the three-year old's fingers around the child-size football, guiding her arm in an arc back and then forward. "See? Now let go…"

Madeline giggled, dropping the football at her feet. "It bounce!" she shouted, when it popped off the ground and back up again. She chased after it, picking it back up and then dropped it again, laughing as it bounced hard on the concrete. "Fun!"

Buddy sighed. They'd been trying this for some time now. "Your daddy was already throwing a spiral when he was three," he said. He wasn't sure about that. Tim was never one for throwing as much as hitting. He remembered when he first saw him play, at the Pee Wee tryouts when he was five. Never saw a kid as small as Tim had been at the time knock over the Pop Warner kids. "Maybe you'll be a fullback," he mumbled, narrowing his eyes at Madeline's slim frame. She was going to be tall, she was already taller than most three-year olds.

"Mr. Garrity are you trying to teach her to throw again?" Tim walked over from where he'd been building Madeline's playset, complete with a turret and winding slide. It was like pink threw up too, Buddy thought, wrinkling his nose at the Pepto-Bismal colored roof, swings, and slide. Tim nudged Madeline, who scowled up at him. "Block, baby."

Madeline chucked her shoulder into Tim's knee, laughing as she fell between his feet. She stood back up and did it again. "You're leading too much with your shoulder," Buddy said, already trying to guide her as she hit Tim again. "There you go!" Tim winced. He chuckled. " Aches and pains Riggins?"

"I'm raising the daughter of Lyla Garrity. There's no end to aches and pains."

He instantly scowled. "That a crack on my daughter?"

"No sir."

I think it was, Buddy thought, keeping his eye on Riggins as he lifted Madeline up, spinning her around by her arms, her feet flying vertically in the air. She squealed, shouting "More! More! More!" and he kept spinning, until he set her down. She promptly coughed a few times, wiping at her nose. "Don't puke," Tim warned. He rolled his eyes. "Your mom will kill me."

"It'll be our secret," Buddy said, taking Madeline again as Tim ruffled her dark hair, sending the two little pigtails that were spouting out of the top of her head askew. He knelt down, adjusting the red bows, the pigtails popping back up again. Wisps of brown hair fell down her neck and she reached back, pulling at it. "Don't do that," he chided, moving her hands back to in front of her. The snap on her overalls had come undone. "Here you go, let's get you decent again."

Madeline pushed his hand away, wanting to do it herself. She was very independent for a toddler. She couldn't get it, her tiny fingers still not dexterous enough to adjust the snap. "No!" she shouted, when he tried to help her again.

"Madeline Dylan," he warned. Lately she'd gotten in the habit of shouting no when she was upset with the adults around her. Lyla said that she was acting out, testing her boundaries, typical for a toddler. They just said her name in a disproving tone and usually that worked. He fixed the snap. "Don't be mean to your Grandpa."

"Grandpa," she said.

His heart kind of filled a little in his chest. He liked hearing that more than he thought he would. "Come along," he said, taking her hand. She didn't like to be picked up much anymore. Independent, he supposed. He walked her over to Tim. "We're going to the football field."

"Have fun. Mad, no!" Madeline had tried to pick up a piece of wood, which hadn't been sanded down yet. Tim grabbed it from her, receiving an angry look in return. "I don't care, you don't need to get a splinter and have your mom pissed at me."

"Language, Riggins."

"She doesn't know what I'm saying."

"She repeated the 's-word' six times after you said it last week, do you know how much time it took to convince Lyla that it wasn't me who said it?" Buddy demanded. He took Madeline's hand again. "Come on sweet pea, we're going to the football field. We'll practice there. Say bye, bye to Daddy."

"Bye, bye," Madeline chirped, turning away and walking back to the house.

Tim sighed. "I feel like I should be offended that she's so willing to say goodbye to me."

"You probably should," Buddy said. He smiled happily to himself. Madeline didn't mind saying goodbye to Tim. It was Lyla she flipped out on when she left. And me, he thought, pleased with himself. He supposed that was because Tim was around her more often than naught, since he was staying home with her until she went to school, giving Lyla the chance to have her career. I think she just misses her Grandpa when I leave, he thought, taking the flower pattered baby bag from the table in the front. It was always packed and ready to go, courtesy of Lyla. If Tim was in charge of it, they'd be missing something.

He checked inside, pleased that everything was in there and picked up Madeline, carrying her to his Suburban, where there was a booster seat already in the back. "Barky," she demanded, holding out her hand and curling her fingers inward.

Barky, that was the dog, he translated, checking the bag and sure enough, there was her latest favored stuffed animal. It was a floppy-eared dog that was missing an eye. It had been the favored animal for awhile. He placed it in her hands and got in the front, driving off towards the football stadium. Once there, he let Madeline run free on the field, where she made a beeline for Luke, who was standing beside Billy.

"Loo!" she shouted, holding up her hands. "Up, up!"

"Not now Little Riggins, go to your uncle."

She turned towards Billy, her hands still held up. "Beewee. Up, up!"

"I'm coaching Little Garrity." Madeline blocked Billy; nice shot, Buddy thought with a snicker. Billy glanced down at her. "You're leading too much with your shoulder." He picked her up anyway, blowing his whistle and shouting for the linemen to form up in front of the sleds. "You want to go for a ride Little G?"

Buddy frowned; he didn't like it when they took her for a ride, but she enjoyed it, so he kept his mouth shut as Billy set her on the sled. She was already giggled in anticipation, her arms wrapped around the post. Billy blew the whistle again and the four linemen pushed at the sled, sending Madeline flying down the field. "Your brother still doesn't know about this?" he asked, as Billy approached him. If Tim knew it surely would have been shut down by now.

"They're all sworn to secrecy."

Sure, sure, he thought, shoving his sunglasses a little farther on his nose. He waved at Madeline, who hopped off the sled, running quickly towards them. She tripped a couple times on the way, both forwards and backwards, but each time she didn't cry and got right back up on her feet, continuing her path towards him. She reached him, breathing deep from her exertion. "Hungry."

He reached into the bag, removing a squeezable applejuice thing, passing it to her where she sucked immediately, watching the movement. She handed him the empty and took off again, zig-zagging between the players. "You realize that she's kind of their lucky charm, right?" Luke said, looking up from his clipboard. He smiled briefly. "We play Arnett Mead next week, we're going to need her on the sidelines."

"She's the actual Dillon Panther," Billy said, blowing his whistle to stop the drills that his offense was running, walking over to set up another play.

An actual panther, huh, he thought, thinking on that for a moment. An idea formed and he thought it might actually be a good one. Might require some research. Few trips to the costume store, but it would work. He collected Madeline a few minutes later, giving her a bottle of water, which she drank while sitting on the bleachers, holding it in her tiny hands and continuing to watch the chaos. She looked up at him, smiling. "Hi Grandpa."

"Hi baby," he cooed down to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. He pointed towards the field. "See that guy? The big one with the number six? He's the quarterback."

"Unca Six!"

"No, not Uncle Jason," he corrected. "But Uncle Jason used to play quarterback and was number six, yes."

"Unca Six," she repeated, looking back at the field. She pointed to one of the players who took the ball, running down the sidelines. "Ball."

"Yes, he has the ball, that's the running back. Can you say that? Running back," he repeated.

Madeline screwed up her nose and lips. She waited a moment. "Running back," she parroted.

"Very good!"

They went through the players a few more times, until they went on to the plays. Madeline had finished her bottle and was growing bored, picking at the Velcro on her pink Nikes and crawling off down the bleachers. He let her back on the field, this time giving her the small ball that she was accustomed to, which she held against her chest, still watching everything. "My turn!" she yelled, passing the ball to Billy. "Beewee, my ball."

"You want to catch it? Go long short stuff." Billy lobbed the ball gently at Madeline, who barely caught it before she bounced it a few times on the grass, laughing and then took it, taking off as Luke tried to chase her down to get the ball back. He looked over at Buddy. "So you're the babysitter today? What's Tim doing? Sleeping? He did that to me last week, told Lyla that he was letting Madeline enjoy her cousins or some lie and I took her back early after they came home with the stomach flu and found him fast asleep."

Everyone deserves a break now and then, he thought, not faulting Tim for wanting a couple of hours of sleep, especially with Madeline. "They're raising her right," he said. It was usually what he went to when Billy or someone else brought up Tim's fatherhood skills. There were some things he disagreed with, but the few times he'd brought it up, thinking it a good idea, Lyla had basically forbidden him from seeing Madeline, so he kept his mouth shut and let them make their mistakes.

"What is Tim doing anyway? I asked him to come out and watch the backs, to see if they're even listening to me which I don't think they are."

I don't think they are either. "He's building Madeline her playset."

"When is he going to knock up Garrity with a boy? We have boys in the Riggins family, not that Little Lyla isn't fun, but you know we can only do so much," Billy complained.

He wrinkled his nose at that thought. Another grandkid? Right now? He wouldn't mind one, but Madeline was difficult enough. "Well you'll have to ask your brother that. Did you talk to Eric?"

"He won't call me back."

Eric was supposed to be in town to help Matt finally sell his grandmother's house, which had remained vacant since her passing a few years before. For some reason they were fine up in Pennsylvania, but he had a sweet deal he was working on that might be able to bring back Eric so long as Tami got something out of it and he thought he had it tied up nice and pretty with a bow that might convince her. "Well keep trying, because he doesn't call me back."

Madeline ran back over to him, collapsing on the ground. She stood up and began to fuss, her nose wrinkled and tears filling her eyes. Uh-oh, someone's tired, he thought, picking her up. "No!" she shouted.

"Madeline Dylan," he warned. He patted her back and she rested her head on his shoulder. Aw, he liked these moments. When she reminded him of Lyla at that age, falling asleep in his arms at football games. He clapped Billy on the back. "I'm taking her back to her father. I'll tell him about the game. I've got an idea for her."

"It's going to be cold, so you know Garrity might not be too keen on letting her run around at night."

"Don't you worry about Lyla." I'll convince her. Maybe.

Madeline mumbled into his shoulder, looking over at Billy. "Mommy?" she wondered out loud.

"Mommy isn't here."

"I wish Garrity was here, she's got that temper that might get these lazy asses running faster," Billy complained.

Madeline's head perked up again. "Mommy?" she repeated. Buddy glanced at her and then back to Billy. He rolled his eyes. Aw, man. She poked him with her tiny finger, becoming distressed. "Mommy? Want Mommy."

Billy frowned a little, looking around, but no Lyla to be found. I know what it is, he thought with another eyeroll. "She knows Garrity means her mother," he said, when Madeline began to ask for her again. "Not now baby, we're going to go home and see Daddy, let's go sweet pea."

"Daddy," Madeline said, turning her head. She began to fuss again. "Daddy!"

"Now see what you did?" he demanded of Billy, carrying Madeline back to the car. He settled her in and dealt with her crying the way home, taking her back inside and yelling over the sound of her tired cries. "Riggins!"

Tim walked out of the kitchen, reaching for Madeline. "Come on kid."

"No, Grandpa!" she shouted, reaching for him again. Then she burst into tears, too tired and probably hungry. She sniffed and wiped her nose. "Potty."

"Aw man!" Tim exclaimed, running her to the bathroom. They were in the process of potty-training her and the minute she said she had to go, they all knew they had seconds. Buddy shook his head, taking her bag into her room at the end of the hall across from Tim and Lyla's, taking everything out. A few minutes later, Tim was carrying her back into the room; she was sucking on a popsicle. He shrugged at the frown he received. "She gets a treat when she goes to the bathroom." He took a bite of the popsicle, shrugging at Madeline's scowl. "And so does Daddy. Come on kid, naptime."

"No nap." Madeline promptly yawned.

Buddy left them to the rest of their day, giving Madeline a kiss on the head before he left. He had some things to do. It didn't take too long, he was surprised to find, probably because Halloween was nearing. He bought the item, already grinning at his plan. This was going to be awesome.

The next week, after convincing his daughter that it would be fine to let Madeline out for the night, provided she was bundled up against the cold, he had Madeline in the back of the Suburban, before kickoff, making up her face. Madeline pursed her lips as he painted the face on and then when he finished, he took her out and carried her into the locker room.

About twenty minutes later, when the team ran out, Madeline was leading the way in Billy's arms, dressed in a panther getup, with a face painted like a cat. She jumped up and down, roaring like a lion, since he'd told her that's what she was, since she didn't know what a panther was other than the mascot for the football team. Which was now her, he thought with a grin.

He went up to the stands, where Tim and Lyla were standing, identical looks of shock on their faces. Until Tim broke into a grin. "Awesome! She's the mascot! Look at that Garrity, she's so cute!"

"She is a peach, isn't she?" he laughed, looking at Lyla. His smile faded slowly when he saw the look she was giving him. Uh-oh. "What?"

Lyla clenched her teeth, a smile around them. It was completely contrary to her tone. "You painted my daughter's face and dressed her up like a panther? She's out there meowing and jumping around like a panther? You didn't want to tell me!?"

"Baby, she's cute," he said, holding up his hand against the forthcoming tirade. "She thinks it's fun."

"I think it's fun too," Tim said.

"No one was talking to you," Lyla snapped. She pushed at Tim. "Say something! Back me up on this!"

He was shaking his head. "Nope, you're on your own Garrity."

"Mommy!" Madeline shouted, as Billy carried her over. The whole stadium was practically awing in unison over her as she curled into Tim's chest, holding the attached tail to her little black jumpsuit costume with a hood that came up with black ears. She smiled, the whiskers on her cheeks crinkling up. The pink on her nose was already smudged too. "I'm kitty!"

"You are a kitty," Lyla said. She kissed Madeline's cheek, reaching with a Kleenex to wipe at her nose. "The cutest kitty, but we're going to take this stuff off soon, okay?"

"No!" Madeline rubbed at her nose, smearing the makeup onto her panther paw, which was over her hand like a mitten. It was pretty cold, Buddy thought, looking up at the cloudy sky. Perfect cool night for football. A nice, crisp October evening, he thought with a sigh, taking Madeline back when she reached for him.

He kissed the top of her hooded head. "You are the cutest panther that's ever been on this field."

"What about me?"

"Shut up Riggins don't ruin it."

Lyla glanced at him, shrugging her shoulder as she sat back down on the bleacher seat, clapping her hands when the Panthers got the ball. She glanced at Tim, who still seemed annoyed that she hadn't defended him. "Well babe he has a point. She is the cutest thing that's ever graced this field." She grinned, sidling her shoulder to him, murmuring. "But you are the hottest."

Buddy made a face. I don't need to hear that. "Lyla. Your father is present."

"Sorry Daddy." She whispered something into Tim's ear that ahd them both giggling like stupid kids again. She took his hand, standing up. "Watch Mad for us, we'll be right back."

I don't want to know, I really just don't plan on knowing, he thought, getting up and carrying Madeline to the sidelines, where he usually stood. Gotta' have everything the way it was supposed to me. He held her close, so she could see everything. She followed with rapt attention, cheering when everyone else did. Until she fell asleep, his arm going numb. He smiled down at her. Just like her mother used to do. She didn't remember of course, but they were bringing her to games since she was a baby. Dressed in a Panther cheerleading uniform, which was all she wanted.

You won't be a cheerleader, he thought, not because he knew Lyla didn't want it, but…but because he just couldn't see her like that. Madeline wasn't even going to be the mascot, she'd probably end up coaching the team. He wiped a little bit of the face paint from her nose and she turned closer to him. He glanced up at the scoreboard. Dillon was winning by three touchdowns. I think they'll keep that lead, he thought, carrying her off the field before the end of the quarter. He patted her back lightly, running into her parents. He shook his head again. I do not want to know what you guys were doing, he thought again, carefully handing her to Tim. "She's done for the night," he said, patting her stomach. He smiled lovingly at her. "Perfect mascot. Same time next week, same costume."

"Daddy," Lyla warned.

He shook his head. "I'm trumping you baby. This is her calling. She's their lucky charm."

Tim patted Madeline's back, cradling her close. "Until she plays for the team," he said, smiling at Lyla, who just arched an eyebrow. He was still smiling. "Come on Garrity. Until we get a boy, that's the future for both our girls."

Both girls? He frowned, glancing at Tim and then to Lyla, who looked like she was going to murder her husband. He immediately dropped his gaze to her stomach, which was hidden by a large hooded sweatshirt. Oh my God. He closed his eyes briefly, thinking. She'd been wearing large clothes for the last two months. His eyes sprang open. "Oh my God! Another baby?" He whooped, jumping around and grabbed Lyla, spinning her off the ground. "Oh baby! Another one? A girl? Another girl?"

"Well I didn't know how better to tell you this time," she laughed, pulling away and then lifted up her sweatshirt, revealing the t-shirt she was wearing underneath. There it was. She grinned wide. "And yes, this time we found out. It's a girl. Another girl, oh my gosh. Tim Riggins will never have sons."

"Hey, I've made up for all that." You will never make up for all that, Buddy thought, glaring at him. Lyla was giving him an identical look. Tim shrugged again, smiling down at his daughter. "Let's get this little one home now. See you later Mr. Garrity."

He lifted his fingertips to wave goodbye to Riggins, because he wasn't sure what else to say. He was kind of numb; another grandbaby. He turned to Lyla, who was smiling warmly at him. "Another girl," he sighed, reaching to hug her again. He shook his head, sighing. "One was fine, but another? What about my offensive line?"

"They'll be wearing tutus," Lyla said, kissing him again. She patted his shoulder. "Cheer up Daddy. Maybe you'll get a grandson out of Tabby or Bud." She waited a moment; was that a joke, he wondered, narrowing his eyes at her. She chuckled. "Yeah, I didn't think so." She shook her head again, her voice soft. "But this is it Daddy. Tim is not getting me pregnant over and over until he gets a boy. I'll neuter him before then."

He winced. "Baby, language. I prefer not to think of those things with you guys."

"Where do you think Madeline came from?'

"An angel brought her down and put her in a cabbage patch."

Lyla grinned, kissing his cheek again. "Good night Daddy. Madeline was very cute tonight, you were right."

His eyes widened. "Oh?" There was a God, he thought, turning around as she let go of his hand, walking off towards Tim's Jeep, where he was strapping Madeline in for the car ride home. He called out to her. "What did you just say there Lyla sweetheart? I didn't understand it."

"I'm not repeating it!"

He laughed, clapping his hands and spun around, greeted by the cheers of the stadium that could only signify a Panther win. Tonight was a good night. They had a new good luck charm, they won, and he was going to be a grandpa again. If Madeline was the mascot, he'd have to find something else now for this little one. Maybe we could have a second mascot, he thought, walking back towards the stadium, his mind running with possibilities.


	3. Snips and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails

**A/N:**I don't really like stories that aren't at least a trilogy, especially one like this, so here's a third and final part. Enjoy :)

* * *

"Okay girls what are we going to have for dinner, huh? Looky here, I made some steak and potatoes and green beans because otherwise your momma would have my head," Buddy drawled, setting the plates down in front of the two little girls looking at him expectedly.

Madeline poked at her steak cubes with her fork, lifting her perfect replicas of Tim's eyes to meet his. "I'm an egtaran."

Buddy narrowed his eyes at her. "An egtaran? What's that, pray tell?" He glanced at little Sophie, who was biting into her mashed potatoes, smearing them on her face and smacking at them happily. Of course, she was also three and more like Tim than Madeline ever was. She'd eat dirt if it was placed in front of her and she was hungry enough. He pointed his fork to her plate. "Eat your food."

"I don't eat meat."

"That's a vegetarian and there is no freedom of diet in this house."

"There's free speech."

You've been hanging around your Aunt Tami more than I would prefer, he thought. He squinted at her. "Eat your food or you're sitting there for the rest of the night," he vowed. He looked over at Sophie, who was chewing on her steak strips. "Use a fork baby, there you go…"

"How come hers are in strips?"

"Because she's three and you're six and I thought you weren't eating your steak."

Madeline made a face, mumbling down at her plate. "I'm not." She poked at the green beans and ate a few, making a face. She finished them after a few minutes and then went on to the potatoes, leaving the steak behind. She peered up at him. "Daddy lets me eat chicken fingers."

"Your father is weak."

"Why?"

"Because he lets you get away with murder, eat your steak. That's $40 of prime Omaha right there," he said, barely having time to cut into his before Sophie flicked a green bean at Madeline. Oh no, he thought, his eyes widened. "Sophie no!"

It was too late. The war had already begun, with Madeline chucking a piece of her steak at her sister, where it bounced off of Sophie's head and onto the floor. The hoover vacuum cleaner of their dog, a Newfoundland named Thor, scarfed it up in seconds. He looked up, his massive, furry face expectant for more. Which Sophie gave him, throwing some of her green beans on the floor. The dog ignored those. She kept crying, pointing her finger at her sister. Buddy sighed, glaring at Madeline. He pushed back his chair. "Time out."

"I have to finish my steak."

"You're a vegetarian, you don't eat meat."

"Well I don't do time outs."

"Yes, you do." Even your punishment-avoiding father told me to put you in time out if you talked back. Apparently it had become a habit for her. She'd attempt to negotiate just about everything. He pointed to the chair sitting in the corner of the living room. "Sit there."

Madeline looked up, smirking. "What about my dinner?"

It took all he could not to snap at her. He pressed his lips together in a line, his eyes squinting and his face turning red in frustration. This was…this was not what he encountered with his children growing up. If they even got unruly, it was always his ex-wife who got involved in the punishment. He was barely around. He took a deep breath. It didn't seem like the Lyla side of her. But it didn't seem like the Riggins side either. That was the surliness. "Your dinner will sit cold."

"Whatever." She hopped up into the chair and crossed her legs, staring straight up at him. She smirked again; her face was identical to Tim, but Buddy saw something else and wasn't sure what it was. Defiance. Where did that come from, he thought, frowning slightly. It wasn't Tim's defiance. That was more passive aggressive. Lyla…he swallowed hard. He wasn't quite sure what Lyla was like.

All he knew was that he wasn't sure how to address it, so he turned away from her and glanced at the clock on the stovetop. It was only 6:00. Tim and Lyla weren't supposed to be back until late that night. They were out having their monthly 'adult night' as Lyla called it. He didn't want to know what it entailed. All he knew was that Tim flew out of the house like he was on fire once the Suburban pulled into the driveway.

There was a light knocking on the front door, since Madeline had broken the doorbell a few weeks ago. He glanced at the girl, who was sitting up, curious at who it was, but not moving from the chair. Since Sophie was just plowing away at her food, completely unsupervised and happily ensconced in her little world, he left her quickly to go see who was at the door and wasn't just barging into the house like they owned it. He pulled it back, smiling wide and his bad mood dissipating. "Eric Taylor! What are you doing here?"

"Tim around?" Eric slipped off his sunglasses, holding them loosely in his fingers. He peered around the wall of the foyer into the kitchen, where Sophie was grinning, waving at him. His face broke into a smile. "Hello Sophie. What you got there?"

"Meat," Sophie quipped.

"Where's your sister?"

"Not eating meat," Buddy growled, glaring in the direction of Madeline who was still defiantly sitting in her chair. He wasn't sure how best to deal with this. Lyla and Tim rarely told or showed him how they disciplined their kids because usually he didn't need to know that, but he also knew they didn't want him judging. I would never judge, he sniffed, looking over at Eric. "She's in time out."

"What'd she do?" Eric looked over at Madeline, calling out to her. "What'd you do little Madeline? Were you mean to your sister?"

"No."

"Talk bad about your father?"

"No, but he doesn't put me in timeout," Madeline said, sniffing dramatically. She slouched down in the chair. "I'm being pers…pers…pers-tooted."

They both glanced at each other. Eric cleared his throat, his eyebrows lifting slightly. "You're being persecuted?"

"Yup." What in the hell, Buddy thought, shaking his head in disbelief. He glanced at Eric again, who seemed to know what itw as like to deal with this type of thing. I sure don't. I was never there, he thought again, glancing at Madeline. She scowled up. "Can I go?"

"Not until you say sorry to your grandpa," Eric said.

Madeline weighed her options for a moment before she smiled slowly. "Sorry Grandpa," she said.

He sighed, gesturing to the table. "Eat your steak. It's cold now, but eat it."

"Okay." Madeline waltzed over and took a seat, eating her steak and not complaining one bit. She wiped her mouth and then hopped off. "I'm done. Can I go?"

They stared at her. What in the hell, Buddy wondered, watching her walk her plate to the counter and rise on her toes to reach it, pushing it up to the center of the counter. He watched as she went off to the little playroom that used to be a formal dining room and sat down at her table, beginning to draw. He glanced at Eric. "What was that?"

"She was testing you," Eric said immediately. He smiled, taking a seat at the table. "Julie would do it. She wanted to see how long things would take to get her into the timeout chair. I have to say though, I've never seen it used quite so pathologically." He reached over and wiped Sophie's nose, which had mashed potatoes on it. "There you sweetheart. How are you this fine evening Miss Sophie?"

The three-year old giggled and leaned forward, batting her eyelashes at him. "Coach." She pulled back a little and then looked up at him, holding up her cup. "Milk pease."

I don't know what to do with this, he thought again. He looked back at Eric. "What in the world is going on with that girl?"

"I told you, she's testing you. She does it to Tim and Lyla, otherwise she wouldn't do it to you. My guess is she thinks she can do whatever she wants with you. You are the grandpa and we're the fun ones." Eric frowned a little. "Although Tim Riggins as a disciplinarian is a bit of an odd combination, but he's a good coach. Tough. He giving any thought to some part-time work with the running backs?"

"No, not for a lack of trying. He likes building things."

"He needs to do things with his hands. How are he and Lyla doing? Going on what now, ten years?"

Yeah, about that. Time sure does fly. "I remember when they got married," he said, sighing a little at the memory. He glanced to the picture of them in the back of the truck. Beside it was an almost replica, with the girls, after Sophie was born. They looked so different to him. Still looked like dumb kids in the first one. In the second they just were…a little more mature. He glanced at Eric. "Well if she's doing that with me," he said, gesturing towards Madeline in the playroom. "I can't imagine what she's doing with Tim."

"I'm sure that's why he's on a date night with Lyla instead of here."

I'm sure that's why too and now I have to deal with her. He stood up from the table, taking Sophie's empty plate to the sink. He set everything it; he'd get to them later so Lyla didn't have a dirty house when she came home. He took two beers out of the fridge and gave one to Eric. They left the girls to play, going to sit out on the back porch; he made sure the door was open and he had his chair angled so he could see them both. "When are you going to come back to Dillon?" he asked.

Eric shook his head. "I'm not coming back to Dillon."

"I can get you more money."

"No, that's not it."

Well what was so special about Austin any way? They came back to Dillon enough to visit with people. Practically had a house there anyway. "What's so great about it?" he grumbled.

"I'm not even going to begin to explain it to you Buddy," Eric said. He looked out at the back of the house. It was angled towards one of the sloping hills, moving down towards the pond. Over the years, Tim had put up fences around certain parts of the land and there was a dock going into the pond. There was still the princess playset, with its pink turrets and slide. Somehow Buddy didn't think Tim envisioned that when he bought the land. He gestured out towards a frame, beyond the pond. "What's he building out there?"

"Guest house. I think Tim is planning on making himself a room just for him," Buddy grumbled. He shook his head. "He says he gets squeezed out by all the girl stuff."

"Tim Riggins and his girls, that's pretty insane when yout hink about it."

"He's a good dad," he mumbled, looking down at his beer. He didn't think much of it before he glanced at Eric, suddenly uncomfortable with the look he was getting. "What?" he grumbled. He shifted in the seat, glancing sideways before Eric could answer, Sophie appearing at his side. He set the beer down. "Whatcha' got there sweet pea?"

Sophie held up a large album. "Pictures. Up Grandpa."

"Grandpa's talking with Uncle Eric right now, why don't we look at that a bit later, okay?" He took the album, but that must have been the sign in Sophie's head that it was okay to crawl up into his lap. "Sophie, not now."

"I want to see!" she exclaimed. She turned one of the pages, poking a chubby finger into a photo of Lyla in her cheerleader uniform. "Who dat'?"

"That's your mother."

"Mommy?"

Eric stood up, walking over to lean over and look at the pictures. He chuckled, pointing to a photo of a scrawny kid standing beside Lyla on the kindergarten playground. "Who is that little kid?"

"That would be Tim." I haven't seen these pictures before, he thought, turning another page. Lyla must have gotten them from her mother. He found one of him and Lyla, with her as a baby in her cheerleading uniform. Beside it was a photo of Tim holding Madeline in a football uniform. The difference was astonishing. I dress my daughter up in cheerleader outfits and he dresses his as the actual football player. There was a number '6' on her jersey. A quarterback at that too.

"Where me?" Sophie demanded, after they'd flicked through a few more of Lyla as a child. There were a few of Tim around her age scattered in there. One in particular he enjoyed discovering, of Jason, Tim, and Lyla in their pee-wee uniforms, standing on the bleachers together, their arms all around each other, grinning stupidly with missing teeth. "Who dat'?" she demanded again, pointing at Jason. "Daddy?"

"No, that's your Uncle Jason."

"Jason?" she repeated, testing the word on her tongue. She moved through the pictures with him, until she grew bored, sliding off his knee and running into the house screaming for her sister. Madeline appeared a moment later, looking annoyed. She was holding a notebook in one hand and a pen in the other.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Your sister was just saying your name, we don't need you here," Buddy said. He glanced at her. She had that same determined little look on her face again. Where did that come from, he wondered, as she looked at them both and then hopped off the porch, walking over to a set of chairs Tim had built, which were set on a small little patio, beneath one of the trees. She hopped up into one of them and returned to whatever she was writing or drawing. He shook his head. "I don't know where she gets that look."

Eric walked away from the chair and sat back in it again. "My girls got it from their mother. Needless to say, I've gotten very used to it."

He didn't say anything, glancing down at the album again. Turning another page, he looked at a picture of Lyla, glaring at the camera. Where was that, he wondered, trying to place the background. It was their old house, he realized, in the kitchen. She was sitting in a chair and her arms were crossed, scowling at the camera. He picked it out from its frame, turning it over. _Lyla in protest, December 1991. _What was she protesting?

Probably something she considered unjust. Lyla had her causes and she fought for them. He looked back up at Madeline. Like mother, like daughter. Everyone said she was just like Tim, but…but no, she was just like my daughter, he thought, smiling a little. The thing was…he felt a little bad about it, but…Tim could handle her. That was obvious. I never really knew how to handle my daughter, he thought, shaking his head slightly and turning to the last page of the album. The four of them, rather recently, he thought. They were at Disney World. They'd gone for the first time a few months ago.

"Was that Tim's hell?" Eric asked, glancing at the photograph of them in the Magic Kingdom. "I can't see him in Disney World."

"He did not like it, no." He picked it up and turned the photo over. Lyla's neat handwriting spelled out the location, the year, and the occupants of the photo. There was a little blurb at the very bottom. _Tim and his girls getting princessy. _I would never do things like that, he thought, feeling a little sad. He closed the book completely, not wanting to think about it. He'd missed out a lot on Lyla's life. He wasn't going to do the same with his granddaughters, even if it meant he wasn't sure how to deal with them. He cleared his throat, glancing at Eric. "This new coach we have is terrible," he said, trying to get back into convincing him to return to Dillon.

"Billy Riggins is not terrible."

"Just awful."

About an hour later, Eric was preparing to leave, as the door opened, Lyla stepping into the foyer. "Hey, Coach!" she exclaimed, giving him a big hug. She pulled back, grinning wide. Something was off with her, Buddy instantly judged. It was different. "So good to see you, how long are you and Mrs. Taylor in town?"

"Just for a few more days, we'll all get dinner," Eric said, kissing her cheek.

"Well Tim will be so happy to see you, he's just getting something out of the car. Where's my girls? We've got some news for them." Lyla stepped around them both. "Princess Madeline, Princess Sophie, Mommy's got something for you!" she sang. She turned around as they both appeared, running in from the playroom. She kissed them both and stood up, looking at Tim, who came into the house carrying a large box.

What are you both doing, he wondered, glancing at Eric, who seemed just as confused. "Lyla," he drawled, his arms crossing. "What's going on?"

"Open up kids," Tim said.

Madeline and Sophie both screamed, grabbing at the box and pulling apart at the flaps. After a moment, they both let out miniature blood-curling screams, Madeline reaching into the box and removing a squirming puppy with droopy eyes and long ears. "PUPPY!" They both grabbed at it, setting it on the floor and began to play, the poor little thing rolling onto its back, wagging its tail and licking anything it could get hold of. Or he could get hold of, Buddy thought, glancing quickly at it. "Is it mine?" Madeline demanded. Thor leaned over her shoulder, sniffing at the other dog, woofed his approval and laid down beside her. Sophie crawled on top of the giant dog, holding onto his fur when he stood up; he was large enough to be a pony for the toddler.

"Ours," Tim corrected.

"Whatever."

"Not whatever." He glared at her when she shot him the same defiant look he'd received when he told her to eat her damn steak. After a second, she broke her gaze, looking down at the puppy. Tim nodded. "That's what I thought. Yes, he's ours. You guys are picking up his poop though."

"Ew!" they both giggled.

Sophie jumped up, holding her arms for him. "You're the best daddy," she chirped.

"Aw, you're the best daughter…" Tim trailed off when Madeline glared at him. He shrugged, kissing Sophie's cheek. "One of the best daughters. Go name him, I gotta talk to your Grandpa and Uncle Coach."

"You got a puppy for a six-year old and a three-year old?" Eric said the moment the girls were out of earshot, messing around with the puppy in the living room as it began to nip at their hands. He looked back over at it. "And that's a basset hound. They're not easy to train."

"Lady at the grocery store was selling them so we put a deposit down a few weeks back and besides, Thor needed a buddy during the day," Tim said, shrugging nonchalantly. He glanced at Lyla, rolling his eyes at her stony face. "Okay, I put down a deposit a few weeks ago. Don't give me that face Garrity, you thought he was cute when we picked him up."

"You should have consulted with me, especially in light of the news I had to tell you and the fact that we already have a dog."

"Well I didn't know about your news."

Didn't know what, Buddy thought, looking at them both again. He narrowed his eyes; over the years he'd gotten very good at reading them both. He scowled. "What?" he asked, looking between them. "What news?" He looked at Lyla. All it took was a few seconds and he knew. His eyes widened. "No!"

"Daddy, don't…"

"Again?!"

"Again what?" Eric asked. He held his hands up. "I don't want to know."

Lyla glanced at Tim, but she couldn't hide her smile, crossing her arms over her chest. "Yes. We were going to share the news to you in a better way than this, but…it's the third, so…" she shrugged again, her voice soft. "I'm pregnant." She smirked. "Again. Unplanned. Again." She glared up at Tim. "And this is the last one. He wants five kids. I wanted two. Three is a compromise."

Another grandbaby! At this rate he was going to just get all his grandchildren out of Riggins DNA, he thought, pushing that aside. Both Madeline and Sophie were sweet just like Lyla and tonight he saw that at least Madeline had received her competitive and defiant streak. He smiled at her, reaching to give her a hug and kiss, while Tim and Coach shook hands, both of them talking about Panther prospects for State the upcoming year. "I love you," he said, kissing her cheek. "And now you're an old hand at all this motherhood stuff."

"Well the odds are still fifty-fifty in scientific world that it's a girl, but given our track record, we're two of three," she laughed. She grinned. "This baby is going to be a surprise. I don't even really care. About five and a half more months and then we'll just drag out the same crib, the same carrier…everything…" She frowned slightly. "You seem sad Daddy. Did everything go okay tonight?"

"Everything went fine." He smiled slightly, his voice quiet. "Did you think I was…not ever really there?"

Lyla cocked her head, taking his hands into hers. She was very touchy-feely when things got emotional. "What do you mean?" she murmured. She narrowed her eyes. "You were there…you…what do you mean?"

He shrugged. I don't know why I'm thinking of this now. Maybe because Madeline was getting bigger, showing that she wasn't just going to follow him around all the time like she had as a baby. One day Sophie was going to be like that too and he just…he sighed again. "I feel like I missed out," he said.

She cocked her head, smiling again, her eyes crinkling. "Daddy, you didn't miss out…you just…" she sighed again, sad all of a sudden. "Yeah, well you know…you missed out and that's your burden to bear but please don't let it. It hurts, but you're never going to change it. It's the past and if you did something truly wrong, I wouldn't let you practically help raise my kids." She grinned, her eyes now sparkling. She was truly happy. "You have your quirks that didn't make you the best sometimes growing up, but…I can't change that and I love you. You're my dad, I only get one of you. You made your mistakes Daddy. You could have done a lot of things differently." She set her jaw, whispering. "Caring more about football players and yourself than your family might have been one of those things. The thing is…that's who you are. I love you and you love my kids and you did things to make up for a lot of what you'd done wrong." She grinned again. "Tim Riggins as your second son being one of them."

Okay, now he felt a little better and didn't want to continue this conversation, especially if she was going to get into Tim. "Lyla…don't start…"

She laughed, wrapping her arms back around him. "I won't. I love you. Third grandkid. Every three years, but this is the last. I will make damn sure of it." Her voice suddenly dropped and a dark glare appeared in her eyes; it was the same as Madeline's. "Even if I have to do it myself."

Tim better hide the knives, Buddy thought, shuddering slightly. He liked to imagine his grandchildren were found in little gardens. He walked over to Tim. "This better be a boy."

"It is. I made sure of it."

"How'd you do that?" Eric asked, screwing up his face in confusion. He shrugged. "It's whatever God wants it to be."

Tim shook his head, lifting his beer to his lips, completely innocent. "No it's really not." He sighed, looking down at Sophie, who appeared at his side. "Hello my love, what's that?"

"From puppy."

Very calm, he nodded. "Okay then," Tim said, taking her clean hand and walking over to the sink. "Let's get one thing straight. When the puppy poops, we don't pick it up!" They immediately heard Lyla yelling for him to get carpet cleaner as she carried the puppy outside, Madeline laughing hysterically after her.

Buddy made a face, but burst into laughter as Eric did as well, covering his face with his hand. "Oh God, I forgot those days. Where everything was curious." He grinned wide. "Henry did that to Matt a few days ago. They were walking through the grocery store and he just blurted out with a woman in front of them how come the lady was fat because that's what his teacher was like and she was having a baby, so was that lady having a baby? Turned out she wasn't. Matt was mortified."

"I can't see Little Matty Saracen having to explain that to a five-year old."

"I'm sure it was awkward," Eric said, nodding to Tim, who returned, picking up his beer and took a long, long drink of it, almost downing the thing. "So are you ready to do this again? You're spacing it out, you have to go through everything new every three years."

Tim shook his head, mumbling. "It'll be easier with a boy." He smiled a little, his voice quiet. "Although another girl won't be so bad." He cocked his head at his daughters, who were putting a big pink bow around the puppy's neck. He sighed. "I gotta' get cracking on the mean streak again. There was a little boy sniffing around Madeline at school. I'll be damned if that happens on my watch," he mumbled, walking off to help Lyla with the dog.

Both of them exchanged a look. "Did you record that?" Eric asked.

"No, but I should have. I don't really know what to do with a boy grandchild." He'd gotten so used to tea parties and tutus. Even when they played football, they were still girly girls. He shrugged, looking back over at them. He smiled wide. They were his grandchildren. He'd…they weren't a second chance, but he knew better this time. He looked over at Tim and Lyla, fighting over the puppy, who just sat panting on the floor. Those two, he thought, rolling his eyes and shook his head. "Let's go to the fieldhouse, I want to show you the new expansion Riggins finally finished."

"You don't want to stick around and celebrate?"

"There's plenty of time for that in the Riggins house," Buddy said, walking out after hugging the granddaughters goodbye.

_Three Years Later_

"What's going on there in your head Miss Madeline?"

Madeline glanced up at him, sighing as he came over to sit beside her on the edge of the porch. She looked out at her siblings, who were throwing a football around. She held her head in her hand, shrugging. "Nothing. We get to go back to school in a few weeks." She loved school, so Buddy knew that that was a big deal. She sighed dramatically again. "And Dad isn't home anymore."

Yeah, that had been rough, with Tim going back to full-time work. He'd been the one to stay at home most of the kids' lives, happily working in his workshop and taking on part-time jobs while Lyla fulfilled her career goals. She was now a juvenile court judge after having been a public defender for juveniles for most of her career. He sighed, shrugging. "Well, Dad's gotta' make money for you kids now."

"Mom says I can't get another sister."

"No, you really can't," he agreed. He looked back out at the kids, smiling and glancing back to her. "You want to spend the night with your Grandpa tonight? I've got your room all ready if you want to take a break from the little ones."

Madeline shrugged. "Maybe." She propped her head on her other hand, resting her elbow on her knee. She glanced sideways at him, smiling. "I get to try out for football in a couple of weeks. Dad said that I could. He didn't care what the other coaches were saying." She looked like Lyla when she smiled, but now that she'd gotten older, everyone could see that she had more of Tim's features, most notably his eyes. All his kids had his eyes, Buddy thought. They were very deep; she looked so wise beyond her nine years. "I'm going to be the only girl."

"I don't know about that." Times had changed, much as he hated that. Dillon would still be Dillon, but he knew that there were several girls who wanted to play football just like their fathers or big brothers or uncles. If they could do it, why can't I, they'd wondered, including Madeline, and Buddy had been at a loss to that question. He loved his granddaughter and if she wanted to be happy…damnit, he'd make her happy, even if he didn't think football was a girl's sport. He just didn't want her cheerleading because it was the only fall back.

Sophie on the other hand, had decided she wanted to be a cheerleader, mostly because she was obsessed with gymnastics. She was six, so there was a good chance she'd forget it about it by the time the youth cheerleading tryouts started for her age group in a couple of months. He glanced down at Madeline. She looked back up again. "I want Dad to come back to the house. I don't like going to stay with Aunt Becky after school."

"You don't like Becky?"

"No, I like her, but I like my house more." She shook her head, grumbling. "I wish they'd let me stay home."

You're nine-years old, you're too young for that, he thought, glancing back at her sister. Sophie liked to think she was about twenty. Kids wanted to grow up so fast. He still wished Lyla was this little girl running in to show him her cartwheel. Not that he didn't care for her being a powerful judge with a family of her own, but he missed those days. They went too quickly and now her kids wanted to grow up as fast as her. "Not yet," he murmured, his arm going around her shoulders. "I want my grandbaby as small as the day you were born. I was there you know."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yup. All three of you, I was in the waiting room. Your daddy came out and told us all three times. I was there when they brought you home too. All little and pink. You were like a tiny sausage in your blanket," he said, chuckling at her scowl. He pinched at her cheek. "You were very tiny. Your sister was tiny too."

"And Liam?"

Ah, the grandson. Tim had been right on that one, although Buddy didn't want to know how he was so confident he'd finally secured his firstborn son and final child. He shook his head, chuckling. "No, your brother was as late as any baby could possibly be, he took his sweet time, much to your momma's displeasure, and when he was finally born, he was about ten pounds and almost twenty-three inches. That's a big baby. That's a linebacker baby."

She laughed. "Liam always plays defense."

"Naw, he's more of an offensive tackle type. Your sister fits the bill for a receiver, she runs fast and she's kind of tall and lanky, but she's got soft hands."

"And me?"

He tapped her temple with his finger. "You, my sweet pea, are quarterback through and through. Tall enough to see over the heads of the defense for your receivers, quick enough to run if need be, and you have a rocket arm. You also have a head for the plays and the heart for the leadership. You are quarterback through and through."

"Daddy says I'm a halfback."

"That's because your dad was a fullback and he was a running back. He prefers it if you run the ball, but your dad was a good fullback because he was big and he was fast. He wasn't afraid to get dirty either." He smiled down at her, his voice quiet. "You're tough Madeline. You're going places and Grandpa…" he kissed the top of her head, squeezing her. "Is so proud of you."

Madeline hugged him back, her head on his shoulder. She frowned a little more. "Daddy says that Liam runs with an empty head, what's that mean?"

"Means he doesn't think, he just runs. Liam's better for tackling." Liam was his father down to the tips of his toes, even at the age of three. He was always up for anything, always laughing and having a good time, but he was soulful. He was mellow, that's what Lyla said about her only son, who she doted on as much as Tim did. He was the only boy and the baby. He patted her shoulder, looking up as a shadow fell over them, Tim holding two beer bottles and a glass with a straw sticking out of it. "Thank you Tim Riggins, but I should probably go."

"I want to go with Grandpa," Madeline said, taking her glass.

Tim shrugged. "Suit yourself." His eyes jumped a little, an idea instantly appearing. "Um, hey…why don't you take all three Mr. Garrity, huh?"

Buddy scowled up at him; he knew what that meant, whenever the parents suggested he take all three kids instead of one at a time, which he usually did, so they each got doted on completely. "Why?"

"No reason."

"You can't get Lyla pregnant anymore, I know. It's coming up on year three."

Tim rolled his eyes. "Not that, it's our anniversary coming up and the rugrats all have school, so we can't go anywhere. Take them for the weekend and I'll come out and coach the running backs for the first three weeks of season. Sound good?"

Sounded perfect, actually, but Buddy still put on a show, sniffing slightly. "I don't like being taken advantage of Tim Rigigns."

"You don't want to spend time with your grandkids?"

"Yeah Grandpa, you don't want to spend time with us?" Madeline asked, looking forlorn. She smiled a little, knowing it was all a passive aggressive little game. "Come on, please!?"

Oh how can I say no to that? He chuckled, nodding and kissed her head again. "Okay fine."

"Yay! You're the best grandpa. And you're better than Grandma."

Well I do like hearing that, he thought with a grin. He looked up as Sophie and Liam ran over, the three-year old falling on his face as Prince Charming, the basset hound, ran after him, sniffing at his hair and licking. Liam was the oddball, they all knew that, but with his freckles and red hair, someone in the Riggins family, as it certainly wasn't his Garrity genes, despite the fact that Lyla said that 'Garrity' was Irish and she was pretty sure that her grandparents both had red hair, but he didn't remember that, so it probably wasn't true.

He jumped back up to his feet, laughing. "Hi Daddy!"

"Hey there son, what are you doing?"

"Runnin'."

Tim hopped down onto the ground, standing still. "Block!" he ordered. Liam shoved his shoulder into Tim's knee, trying to push hard. Then he pushed down his head. "Nope, no, no, no, never drop your head, never do that," he chastised. He carefully guided Liam's neck to a straight angle. "Always straight, always. Never bent. You don't want to be like Uncle Six."

"Wheels."

"Yes, we don't want to be like Uncle Six on wheels." He swung Liam up into the air, holding him like a sack of potatoes on his shoulders, while the three-year old kicked at his feet and giggled, dark red hair pouring over his face as he was held upside down. Tim looked over at him, grinning. "You sure you don't want them for an entire week?"

"An entire week will cost you two months at practices. All of them." He would take his grandchildren for days on end if necessary, but he liked to make Tim's life miserable. Especially because he hadn't in awhile and that was no fun. He grinned. "We can make a deal Tim Riggins."

"Naw, I'll miss them. Right girls?"

"Right," they both said at the same time, hopping up to grab him. "Tackle Daddy!" Sophie yelled. Madeline pushed along too, even though she said she was getting too big for things like this. They both yelled and scream, with Tim walking away from the house, three kids beating on him. It was very loud, Buddy thought with a chuckle, glancing up as Lyla came over to him, clearly just home from work in her black suit and heels.

"Are we playing tackle Daddy?" she asked. She took Tim's beer, taking a long drink. She gestured towards him. "Don't worry about the whole 200 hours community service thing."

His eyes widened. That couldn't be good, coming from her. "What?"

"Just don't worry about it, I got it under control."

He watched her walk away to join her family, laughing when they all began to scream for her. Buddy shook his head again. "You really are my daughter," he chuckled, sipping his beer and watching with a smile on his face.

THE END


End file.
